Transfigured Hearts 21: Lovesbane
by MrsTater
Summary: Last night Remus and Tonks were all but engaged to be married. Then the Death Eaters attacked, and Albus Dumbledore asked Remus to wake up from his dream and enter a nightmare. There's no way Remus can say no to Dumbledore. How can he say it Tonks?
1. Part One

_This story follows **We Interrupt This Broadcast**_ _in the **Transfigured Hearts series**, and is set between Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix and Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. _

* * *

**Part One**

"Have you finished, Professor Lupin?"

Hermione Granger's address jarred Remus from his musings. Though her manner was typically direct, he was startled she would speak so brusquely about the bottle of Wolfsbane Potion standing untouched before him on the Weasleys' kitchen table.

"I mean the _Prophet_," Hermione said, and Remus glanced across the table to see her blushing to the roots of her hair. "I mean, you haven't seemed to be reading for the past ten minutes, and I've done with all these." She indicated the newspapers – Wizarding and Muggle alike – strewn about her place and the one beside her, along with a few history books against which she checked the recent reports.

"I am afraid I haven't your capacity for concentration." Remus folded his _Evening Prophet_ and handed it over. He mentally kicked himself for being so consumed with his condition that he'd projected that onto another person, but added, "And you don't have to call me Professor."

Ginny, who sat on the hearthrug petting Crookshanks, giggled. "You sound a bit like Tonks."

Remus smiled faintly. "Except she's a bit more emphatic about not being called Nymphadora, isn't she?"

And Tonks had _always_ hated her name, while his aversion to the title had just developed. He'd found it oddly ego-boosting that the kids missed him at school – though he supposed even a werewolf hadn't much competition from his predecessors and successors. Now, however, _Professor Lupin_ was as bitter a reminder as the Wolfsbane Potion that he'd lost that job because he was a werewolf.

And he'd gained this new one because only a werewolf would do.

The _Daily Prophet _had got it right all those months ago, after all. He was Remus Lupin, werewolf.

"Something wrong, Remus?" Molly's motherly voice broke into his brooding. "I mean, apart from…" She sniffled and pulled a clean towel from her laundry basket and dabbed at her watery eyes. The murder of Emmeline Vance had shaken the entire Order, but Molly in particular. "…this nasty business."

In the background Hermione bickered with Ron, who was sprawled on the sitting room floor clutching his beloved Wizard's Chess set, and speculated with Ginny, about whether Cornelius Fudge would really resign, what official was most likely to replace him, who would fill Amelia Bones' position as Head of Magical Law Enforcement, and whether it was really appropriate to play chess – as Ron had been begging everyone to do – when people were dying.

"It's just…" Molly continued, casting a laundry-folding spell that made Andromeda Tonks look like a domestic failure, "…you've been quieter than usual since you had that talk with Dumbledore."

Remus _almost _smiled at Molly's curiosity – except that it was more than that; it was anxiety, and it had been in her eyes since Dumbledore pulled Remus aside after the meeting. It was obvious she was frightened that apparently there was some Order business to which the entire group was not party. Seeing her eyes flicker warily over his potion bottle, Remus wondered fleetingly and with a racing pulse whether Molly suspected the subject of that private talk.

But no – she couldn't. Remus himself had never imagined Dumbledore would ask him to live in a werewolf colony as a spy.

When Molly turned her back to send a stack of towels into a cupboard, Remus grabbed the bottle and held it under the table. He felt guilty for having brought this reminder into her home – for she seemed to forget, and perhaps intentionally – that he was a dangerous creature. Technically, _he_ had not brought it here. He would have to forego the luxury whilst underground, and there was no point in keeping up this week's dosages since he would be there for full moon.

But Tonks had sent it. Tonks – who had no idea of his assignment or that he must end their relationship because of it, who had been up all night and worked all day investigating the bridge and Bones incidents, and now the Vance…Somehow in the midst of all that she'd remembered he needed a dose, stopped by the apothecary's, and sent a bottle to the Burrow.

"I'm all right, Molly," said Remus hoarsely. "Just pondering something Dumbledore asked me to think over."

It was a lie, through and through. Remus had agreed without hesitation to take the mission. Though Dumbledore refused to accept it as an official decision asked him to sleep on it, Remus would not change his mind.

Molly pursed her lips as she flicked her wand and watched a pair of maroon socks roll themselves together. "There's quieter places to think things over than here," she said over the rising volume of the teenagers' discussion.

Hermione had migrated into the sitting room and Bill, who sat in one chair with Fleur – to whom he'd recently become engaged – had joined in the conversation.

Molly added, "And sometimes it helps to _talk _things over."

Dumbledore had said the same, though without naming names, as Remus braced himself for Molly to do. He glanced into the sitting room, and was slightly relieved to see the younger set seemed to have forgotten his and Molly's presence. Somehow his former students had not cottoned to his romance with Tonks – surely because of his age as much his condition – and he preferred it stayed that way now that it was about to end.

"Tonks' owl surprised me," Molly said with the same dubious look she'd given him earlier, when he'd asked to stay at the Burrow tonight after spending the past three with Tonks. "She's always welcome to drop by, but I thought she'd want to go straight home and sleep. Though it _is _difficult to sleep when things aren't right with the people you love."

Of course Molly assumed they were having a lovers' quarrel. Remus wished she would not interfere. Tonks herself was unaware that he would not be returning with her to her flat, and the very last thing he needed was for Molly to assume Tonks _did _know and reveal it before Remus could broach the subject sensitively. His conscience was slightly pricked that Tonks, assuming he was busy with Order duty at the temporary headquarters, felt compelled to come see him here. But after packing his meagre belongings, he hadn't the heart to wait in Tonks' cosy flat to tell her he was leaving…

"People get married during wars," Ron flung at Hermione, gesturing wildly at his brother, who was distracted once more from the debate that was fast intensifying to argument by Fleur kissing his ear, "so why can't people play chess? That's what they're fighting for, isn't it?"

"Zat sounds like Bill," came Fleur's throaty voice.

Remus felt the heated atmosphere of the Burrow chill as the other three females regarded Fleur. Ron looked in danger of drooling on his chess set.

"When 'e proposed," Fleur continued, silvery blonde hair shimmering as her diamond ring caught the lamplight and refracted rainbows, "'e said zat getting married is as patriotic as it is romantic, and will show You-Know-Who zat we are not afraid."

Remus glanced at Molly, whose lips twitched as though she could not decide whether to display pride in her eldest son's bravery, or displeasure with his bride-to-be. Under normal circumstances, Remus' own mouth would have contorted with restrained laughter, but he ached inside knowing that Tonks might be thinking as romantically as Fleur, not suspecting that the wedding he'd promised her last night was a dream destroyed by the light of day.

It was for the best. Tonks deserved a young man like Bill, who could slip a diamond onto her finger when she accepted his proposal, not a pauper who could only drag her down to degrading levels with Dark Creatures.

"This business about life going on in wartime," said Molly, shooting Bill a pointed look, "is all well and good – your father's out in his workshop right now, carrying on with his hobbies – but people rush into important decisions without really thinking them through."

Remus gripped the Wolfsbane Potion bottle from which he still had not drunk and wondered if Molly would think confessing love, moving in together, and getting engaged in less than a fortnight constituted rushing into important decisions. He wished Tonks were here. Maybe she'd reconsider—

"Ginevra Molly Weasley!" screeched Molly, dropping her laundry basket en route to the stairs, spilling socks and underwear. "Do you think you're too old for me to use a soap charm onthat mouth?"

What on earth? Given the fact that Ginny's face was the picture of a proper teenaged strop, Hermione's hidden behind her hand as she battled laughter, Ron's as red as his hair, Fleur's downcast, and Bill's livid white, Remus could only guess that Ginny had made a roundabout insult to Fleur by way of Ron. But _what _could she have said to fluster her mother so and make Bill look like _that_?

"I theenk I am razzer tired to play chess weeth you, Ron," said Fleur, not meeting anyone's eyes as she rose from Bill's lap. "And I should like to owl my darling Gabrielle before I go to bed. _Bonsoir_, everyone."

As Fleur hurried to the stairs, Bill at her heels, Remus felt for both – but especially Bill, who paused at the foot of the steps to cast reproachful looks at his mother and siblings. Remus would not put Tonks in the position of being mortified for her fiancé and at odds with her otherwise wonderful family. He would not spoil what should the most joyous time of her life with the discord sure to arise on his account.

A rap on the back door brought everything to a halt. Molly dropped the laundry basket again, spilling the socks and underwear she'd just charmed back into the hamper. The teenagers sat up straight, staring round-eyed. Fleur gasped and clung to Bill's arm, but he kissed her temple and slipped out of her grasp to descend the stairs. Remus replaced his potion on the table as he stood and joined Bill, wand drawn, at the door.

"Who's there?" Molly called out tremulously. "Declare yourself!"

"S'Tonks."

Not bothering with the spilt laundry, Molly bustled to answer the door as Bill asked loudly, "Why'd I put you in detention when I was Head Boy?"

After a slight hesitation, Tonks' voice replied, "I Impersonated a prefect so I could use their bathroom."

"That's the real Tonks," said Bill, Ginny's laughter mingling with his as he opened the door.

But Tonks' voice held no laughter as she stepped inside and greeted, without her usual enthusiasm, "Wotcher."

Her dark eyes immediately sought Remus', and he noted with some alarm that they were bleary and bloodshot, rimmed with faint purple that accentuated her pale complexion. But rather than drooping with fatigue, her eyes were _wide _as though she were stunned. He forgot sometimes that Tonks was not a seasoned Auror, and that she had not yet experienced the regular catastrophes of war.

"Tonks," said Fleur, approaching and slipping her hand into Bill's, "is zees your natural hair? I remember you told me it was a horrid colour."

Tonks' hand flew to her hair; her look of surprise concerned Remus too much for him to be miffed for her sake at Fleur's insult – which was likely not meant that way, and Molly and the girls were indignant enough.

"It's not horrid," Hermione said. "It'll lie flat if you want it to do."

"It's just a bit plain," Ginny conceded. "I do like pink better on you. Or red."

"Brown's a very sensible colour," said Molly. "Nearly the same shade as Remus', isn't it?"

Tonks' lips curved in a ghost of a smile, and there was a hint of a sparkle in her eyes as she cut them at Remus. "Shall I morph a little grey so we'll match?"

Hermione looked a bit scandalised that Tonks would tease Remus that way; Ginny laughed but then, catching his eye, clapped a hand over her mouth.

For his part, Remus was relieved to hear Tonks joke. "You're not having trouble with your Metamorphosing, then?"

As Molly guided her to the table, Tonks scrunched up her face and, with obvious effort, changed her hair veela blonde. "Just knackered's all." She let her hair go back to the state Fleur had criticized. Her forehead crinkled. "_Really _knackered. I usually feel it if I'm about to lose a morph."

"Perhaps you should see a Healer tomorrow," Remus said as Bill and Fleur made good on their previous intent to leave.

Tonks shook her head. "It's normal. Really."

"Sit, dear," said Molly, gently pressing Tonks' shoulders, "you're dead on your feet." She watched until Tonks leant comfortably back in her chair, then asked, "Tea?"

"Yes thanks."

As Remus seated himself beside her, he noted Hermione scrutinising Tonks. The look on her face was one Remus had seen often at Hogwarts, and had learnt to identify as Hermione making a mental note to research a topic further on her own time. It was safe to assume that later Hermione would be looking up the effects on stress on a Metamorphmagus' powers. He would have found it amusing if his own worry for Tonks did not make him keen to learn more on the subject, as well.

"I saved a plate of supper," said Molly, boiling the kettle. "Shall I warm it over for you, dear?"

"Not really hungry." Tonks didn't bother to cover her mouth as her mouth opened cavernously with a yawn. "Too tired."

Molly gave Tonks a long, troubled look as she levitated a cup of tea to her. "You shouldn't have troubled yourself to come here," she said with another accusatory glance at Remus. "Why didn't you go home?"

"I needed a bit of cheering, and this is the place for it." Tonks heaped sugar into the tea Molly levitated to her, and Remus noticed her hand trembling. "But it looks as though you lot need it more. S'my hair _that_ depressing?"

Remus realised the three teenagers were all watching her closely and looked troubled. They weren't used to seeing Tonks anything less than perky; her vivid hair colours usually belied however grave she might feel.

"You look…" Ginny either could not decide how Tonks looked, or was afraid of insulting her, because she changed directions. "Did more stuff happen?"

"We'd know," said Ron, "since Hermione's read every bleeding word of the _Prophet_."

"Ronald!" shrieked Molly. "You're not too old for soap charms, either!"

"Mum! All I said was—"

"The _Prophet _doesn't report everything," Hermione interrupted with a huff. "Anyway it's been hours since the evening edition arrived." She too looked expectantly to Tonks, suspecting the Auror knew more than they did.

"Nothing since…this afternoon," said Tonks, Emmeline's unspoken name weighing heavily on them all.

"Aurors get tired and upset just like everyone else," said Molly gently, setting a plate of biscuits before Tonks.

Dark eyes fixed vacantly on her the contents of her teacup, Tonks toyed with the handle. In an uncharacteristically soft voice, she said, "It's never been like this before. So much at once, y'know? There's not time to deal with one thing before something else…" Her chin quivered, and her voice cracked as she continued, "I _know_ these people. Amelia was really great to me when I was in training…"

Molly quickly turned to scrub something in the sink, but could not hold back a sob. "I went to school with Emmeline. Every Christmas we knit jumpers for our year."

The teenagers exchanged uncomfortable glances.

Under the table, Tonks' fingers tugged at Remus' jumper. His chest tightened when he tuned and peered into her brimming eyes.

"Are we going to lose people every day?" she asked. "Will I always be one step behind? Sirius…" She screwed her eyes shut, and swallowed hard. "I'm sorry. I'm a mess…" Again Tonks tried to smile, but her mouth contorted as tears threatened to overcome her brave fight against them. "It's not—"

"Ginny, Ron," Molly cut in, "help me put the laundry away, please."

Remus thought it was probably the first time in history a boy had picked up a laundry basket as eagerly as Ron, and he didn't miss Ginny's eyes dart warily at Tonks. With a pang, Remus pictured evenings at Grimmauld Place when Tonks had happily obliged Ginny's requests for bizarre morphs, and he'd been drawn from brooding conversations across the dinner table to find his own spirits buoyed by Tonks' vivacity.

Imagination took control, and he saw himself seated at a cosy table, watching much younger children than Ginny – with brown hair and elfin faces – delight in their mother's dinnertime antics.

He forced the vision out of his mind, not sure whether it hurt more to imagine what he could not have or to banish the dream.

As Molly helped Hermione gather her papers and writing implements, Remus realised they were leaving him alone to deal with Tonks. Again he wondered if the children would suspect he and Tonks were more than comrades-at-arms, but he supposed they'd seen Molly cry on his shoulder enough that consoling was simply one of his Order duties. He hated the irony that Tonks depended on him to help her deal with this new aspect of soldiering, and now that times were becoming direr, he had to leave her.

_Leave her_. God…Tonks' dream in St. Mungo's…She'd woken from the hex terrified that Remus was leaving her, and he'd promised vehemently and with reassuring kisses that he would not do. He should have known better than to promise constancy. His life was patterned around the moon, for Merlin's sake.

Yet it was those broken promises that now made Remus turn in his chair wrap his arms around her as she crumpled against his shoulder. He owed Tonks so much he could never make up for, but _this _moment he could give her.

"You mustn't blame yourself," he murmured as Tonks cried, so still and quietly that he wouldn't know she was crying if he hadn't seen her tear-filled eyes before she buried her face against him, or felt the moisture seeping through his sleeve.

"I don't really." Her voice was muffled. "But if just _one _little thing had gone diff—"

"No."

Tonks' head shot up. Instinctively, Remus brought his hands to cup her face. He felt the stickiness of her tears on his fingers. Though he knew he shouldn't, he couldn't stop himself from kissing her cheeks, her eyelids, to taste the saltiness. Enfolding her again, he held her head in the crook of his neck and stroked her hair.

"Don't go down that road, love," he whispered. "Don't, or you'll go mad."

He hadn't meant to use the endearment, and it frightened him that he didn't know how to comfort Tonks without affection. He thought of her long-ago comment – the very same night she'd told him not to give up the dream of marriage and a family (Merlin, he should have seen then the path they were embarking on and put a stop to it) – that if they weren't romantically involved they would be awkward. It would be so much worse after all this time…

But she was relaxed now. Her tears had ceased. Tonks heaved a shuddering sigh as she raised her head and smiled weakly. The light was in her eyes again, faintly. He'd helped her. He was glad he'd held her, kissed her.

"I'll be okay," Tonks said, reaching for her tea. "Just need sleep." Her eyes glimmered over the rim of her cup as she sipped. "And you."

Though Remus knew the last thing Tonks needed was to need him, he hesitated to say so.

Setting down her teacup, Tonks tapped the bottle of Wolfsbane Potion she'd sent. "I wasn't sure you'd a chance to go to the apothecary."

"I hadn't," Remus bent the truth. Despite his thought that dragging this out any longer would increase Tonks' hurt, it seemed like the worst timing to reveal his mission. "Thank you."

Tonks waved unnecessarily as she took another drink. "Part of the almost-fiancée job description."

"No," said Remus. "Definitely above and beyond the call of duty. I can't see how you found time."

"Actually I was questioning one of the apothecaries. Dodgy lot working in there."

"To put it mildly," said Remus with a lightness he didn't feel. He'd always known the Knockturn Alley apothecary from whom he purchased Wolfsbane Potion dealt with an unsavoury crowd, but in light of Dumbledore's information about the werewolf population, the implications of a potential Death Eater – or friend of Death Eaters – brewing the potion were harrowing.

"Inspired me to get the hang of brewing it so you don't have to give them your patronage."

The determination on her face and in her voice pricked Remus' conscience. If he couldn't break it off yet, he at least could steer her away from talking as if they'd a future together.

"You've got more than enough to occupy you without potions."

"Once I've got it," Tonks said as if he hadn't spoken, "I'll work on improving the taste. That's why you haven't drunk it yet, isn't it? Overcoming the gag reflex?"

"You know me."

Tonks was smiling as she took another drink of tea, but her expression became grave as she lowered her cup again. "How are you really? You knew Emmeline quite well."

"I'm fine."

"You're _not_ fine." She covered his hand. "Talk to me?"

It was the same question she'd asked the night of Sirius' memorial, after he'd comforted her. Just as he had that day, Remus wanted to tell her everything, but he couldn't.

"I am rather too shocked to know how I feel," Remus said.

Part of him thought Tonks would find the answer unsatisfactory, and for a moment he saw a flicker of emotion he could not identify.

But she squeezed his hand and said, "Y'know what we need?"

Her tone was slightly flirtatious, and her hand was on his thigh. Remus compulsively responded to the gleam in her eyes. "What?"

Still mischievous, but with a hint of trepidation, if her brief glance away and deep breath indicated, Tonks replied, "To elope."


	2. Part Two

**Part Two**

"Doesn't it sound lovely, Remus?" Tonks asked in a breathy voice that seemed to have lost some of the bone-tired quality. Her hand trailed from his thigh to his waist, then around to his back, stopping its ascent to stroke the hair at the nape of his neck. "Just you and me at a cosy bed and breakfast, with champagne and chocolate covered strawberries, and no wireless or newspapers or owls to interrupt with bad news."

For an instant, Remus closed his eyes and pictured it. _Lovely_ was the understatement of the age if it described what it would be to spend his last days before the mission in peace and comfort, making love with Nymphadora, giving neither thought nor fear to Dark Creature or Death Eater. They would be as they had been last night, before everything changed, and would continue to be so though separated by this coming ordeal.

At a clinking, as of glass, Remus' eyes snapped open. Tonks had taken a drink and accidentally knocked her teacup against the Wolfsbane Potion bottle. Remus blinked as reality forced itself painfully into the place the fantasy had occupied.

Nothing had changed. It had always been this way.

Heart in his throat, he rasped, "It's a dream, Tonks."

"I know." Tonks heaved a sigh. "We've work to do." Wrapping her arms around his neck, she leant into him. Her lips brushed his skin as she said, "But I'm glad we've a wedding to look forward to when things are bleak like this."

A smile formed on Remus' face before he could check the impulse.

Tonks hugged him tightly and pressed another kiss to his cheek. "God, I love being able to say those things."

Not as much as he loved hearing them.

Must he really end this? The prospect of marriage clearly had a better effect on Tonks than the idle words of comfort he'd have offered if she were merely a colleague. He could only imagine how it would benefit _him _to have a wedding to look forward to. Tonks had told him last night she would wait for whatever it was he had to do.

But she'd promised blind – as had he. If Remus had known where Dumbledore wanted to send him, he never would have let Tonks make that offer, never would have let himself dream – much less speak – of allowing her to make it.

Face burning, he dropped his gaze in shame that he'd considered asking _her_ to wait for _him. _Tonks was a beautiful young Auror whose efforts in this war would lead to promotions and respect and status in the Wizarding world, and could have any man she wanted. He really was no better off than the other lycanthropes, except that he'd been fortunate enough to know Dumbledore, and make charitable friends.

Eyes still fixed on the floor, Remus placed his hands over Tonks' wrists and gently pulled her arms from around him. Releasing her, he pushed his chair back from the table and stood stiffly, whether from the waxing moon or discomfort with the situation, he did not know. He turned and strode to the fireplace, skin prickling and heartbeat accelerating as he felt her eyes following his every move. He leant against the aged mahogany mantle, taking a moment to breathe and collect himself.

"There won't be a wedding, Tonks."

For a long time the only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock. The ceiling creaked as the residents of the Burrow moved about upstairs. Remus had almost forgotten where they were and that they were not truly alone. Molly had left him to comfort Tonks and mend what she thought to be a break in their relationship. Would she have gone if she'd known he was _making _the break?

"D'you mean," Tonks said, "you'd rather something private, or…" Voice dropping to barely above a whisper, she asked, "…or you don't want to be married at all?"

Remus closed his eyes and found himself resting more of his weight against the mantel. "It's not a matter of wanting." His hand balled into a fist as he cursed his need to put himself in a good light even as he broke her heart. "It's…we _can't_. _I _can't."

"There's a law?"

Her small voice sent Remus' heart plunging to the pit of his stomach. Merlin – Tonks trusted him so completely that it did not occur to her that he would call off their almost-engagement of his own accord.

Would it be easier on her if he approached it from that angle? It was something they would have discussed at some point regardless, whether this mission had existed or not.

Turning again, he found Tonks sitting the wrong way in her chair, one leg tucked underneath her, fingers clutching the top rung of the ladder back. Her lower lip – that soft, welcoming lip upon which he'd bestowed lingering kisses – was caught between her teeth. She peered at him through her messy fringe, wrinkled robes she'd worn for two days sliding up her arms and pooling around her slender frame, and she looked young. So very young. Too young to have her heart broken.

Especially not by him.

Again unable to meet her unblinking, inquisitive, trusting gaze, he pushed away from the mantel and began to pace.

"The Umbridge laws don't allow me to work in the attempt to push undesirables like me out of respectable society," said Remus in an unintentionally professorial tone, trying to ignore Tonks' sharp intake of breath at the word _undesirables_. "The last thing they'll allow is for me to integrate by marrying – no less a Ministry employee."

"But there's no _actual _law?"

"No…" He drew out the word as he stopped in his tracks. "But—"

The legs of her chair screeched as Tonks stood suddenly, shaking her head as though to cast off a mental haze.

"Why're you worrying about this right now? We've just had a crap day, and we're completely buggered…Let's just go home and go to bed."

Before Remus could react, she grabbed his hand and laced their fingers together.

"Maybe when we wake we can finish what we started last night, yeah?"

As she moved for the door, Remus remained still and let his clammy fingers slide from her grip.

"I can't go…" He started to say home, but caught himself. "I can't go to yours. I can't stay with you anymore."

Tonks went rigid. "Oh my God!" She spun back to him and clutched the front of his jumper. "Remus, did Dumbledore give you that assignment? S'that what you've been trying to tell me?"

This was the moment – he should tell her and have done with it. But he'd never been able to apply that method to drinking the foul-tasting Wolfsbane Potion, and when Remus opened his mouth, the thought of the mission and all it entailed threatened to suffocate him. He would never hold himself together to do what he must if he talked about it.

And he knew Tonks, knew she would never accept his mission as an excuse. She would say she didn't care. She _couldn't _care – she didn't understand. And he didn't want her to understand this, to think of him living as he would…

This wasn't about the mission anyway. He never should have gone here. He was what he was, whether he lived among wizards or werewolves. He wasn't enough for Tonks.

"We've been dreaming, Tonks. A beautiful dream. But every dream's got to end. It's time to wake up."

Tonks hands fell to her sides. "You're breaking up with me?"

Remus swallowed hard, a bitter taste not unlike that of Wolfsbane Potion burning his throat. "I'm sorry."

Tonks gave a puff of mirthless laughter. "You're _sorry_ for calling off an engagement."

"For everything."

"You didn't seem at all sorry last night. You said you couldn't wait to get married."

Her gaze was challenging, piercing, and Remus couldn't meet it. But as his eyes darted everywhere but at her, Tonks brought her hands up to his face.

"You talked about _kids_, Remus. _Our _kids."

Remus flinched away from her touch, and he glimpsed her stricken expression just before it became a glower.

"Don't you have anything to say to that?" she demanded.

It came as somewhat of a relief to see her frustration boil out. She _should _be angry with him for doing this to her, and it might help her to move on more quickly. He could think of nothing to say other than to apologise again, but from upstairs came more creaking sounds.

"We should continue this outside," said Remus.

Though light broke in wan beams through the window shades, it was difficult to make out the porch steps. Remus took out his wand, but before he could cast a _lumos _charm, a gong-like sound and a muttered curse indicated Tonks had stumbled over one of the rusty cauldrons that littered the ground.

"I'm sorry," said Remus, reaching for her instinctively and catching her elbow.

"Not your fault," Tonks hissed, jerking away from him. Instantly she cooled, raking her fingers through her unruly hair and heaving a deep sigh as she leant against the house. "Look, Remus, just pretend I didn't say all that rot about eloping. You know how my mouth runs with stuff I don't mean when I'm ti—"

"But you _do_ mean it," Remus quietly broke in. "You don't want to run away, but you do want to get married, sooner rather than later."

"I can wait." Tonks stepped toward him. "As long as you want."

He turned from her. "I can't give you that life. You deserve someone who can."

"Someone who—?"

Remus had descended the steps and started into the yard, but Tonks tripped after him and stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder. "I thought you might get cold feet, but I didn't think it'd be this soon."

Though it was totally out of line, Remusfelt a pang. "You see? I've never done anything to make you confident that I'd go through with a decision like this."

"Dammit, Remus, we're talking about _marriage_! Don't flatter yourself that you're the only person who's had doubts about that!"

Tonks' chest heaved with quick, shallow breaths that matched the pumping of Remus' heart, then her shoulders sagged as though she'd been deflated.

"What I mean to say," she said in a controlled tone, "is that we've made a lot of big decisions in the past few days. I've asked questions too – whether this is the right time, whether I've pushed you too hard. What you're doing now makes me think I have, and I'm sor—"

"You didn't push," Remus interrupted, shoving his hands deep into his trouser pockets. He nudged her gently with his elbow, then turned to walk further into the yard. As Tonks fell into step with him, he continued, "But that is precisely the problem. You were injured, we were both grieving…"

"_Are_," Tonks corrected. "We're still grieving. Especially you."

Remus squelched the thought that if Sirius knew what he was doing right now, he'd kill him. He ran a hand over his unshaven cheek and recalled Molly's words.

"When people face life and death situations every day, they make decisions too quickly that they would have taken more time to consider—"

"Speak for yourself," Tonks cut him off. "I've taken more time than I needed to be sure about you. Ten months. Longer."

Remus swallowed and again tasted bitterness. She'd given him ten months, almost a year of her life, moving at his pace, and getting nothing from it but _this_. Ten months during which she could have met a suitable wizard.

"We've come a long way since we started fancying each other," Tonks said, more gently. "We've worked through issues. Made a lot of really beautiful memories."

There was a reverent quality to her voice at the last, and Remus looked and saw a lovely smile on her heart-shaped face. He smiled too, and Tonks was so beautiful in the moonlight, remembering times spent with _him_, that when she sidled closer and twined her arm with his he could not think about moving away.

"No one but you could top that surprise birthday," she whispered.

"I never will."

He'd taken her to the Shrieking Shack. She'd dubbed it the Snogging Shack.

But a name didn't change a thing.

It had always been the Shrieking Shack, and it always would be.

"I'll cherish the memory always." Remus murmured as they halted at the top of the hill overlooking the village of Ottery-St. Catchpole. "Every moment with you."

Her hand slid down to hold his as she moved to stand just in front of him. "I'm glad you'll cherish them always. But there are more where those came from."

Remus could not stop himself from bringing his hands to slide inside her robes, to settle on her hips.

Just one more.

He barely touched his mouth to hers, lingering only enough to taste her longing.

Tonks drew back. "Do you cherish things by throwing them away?" Her voice was raw as she pummelled him with questions. "What's changed since last night? What in bloody hell are you keeping from me?"

"It's what I'm keeping you from."

"Bollocks." Tonks stalked around him, hunching her shoulders as she folded her arms. "You can't spare a girl's feelings when you're breaking her heart. If you've let your emotions run away with you because of Sirius, just. bloody. _say so_."

"It's not that," said Remus in a lame attempt at honesty.

"Then what _is _it?" She spun to face him.

Merlin. His hands hung helplessly at his sides. He was doing this badly.

Tonks was undeniably angry, but somehow Remus had underestimated the force of that emotion. Her frustration was deeply rooted in hurt. She looked as if he'd _betrayed_ her – and he supposed he had. Except…

…he had not.

To betray her would be to stay with her when he knew it would hurt her. He was thinking only of what was best for her.

"How can I make it any plainer, Nymphadora?" His own frustration mounted. "I can't be with you because of what I am."

"But you're not—"

"You make me forget, but I _can't_ forget. I've got to be careful and alert, or people could get hurt. _You _could get hurt."

"So…" The word was choked off by a repressed sob, and Tonks sank down on the long grass.

Some moments passed before Tonks continued, during which Remus hoped against hope that she was not crying. It was wrenching enough to see her that distressed over things he had not caused. But to be the one to push Tonks that far…And all because she _loved _him, because she _wanted _him…

"We haven't worked through those issues at all?" Tonks's voice was thick with tears and swelling emotion. "I just…distracted you for a little while?"

Though Remus knew he deserved every harsh word she could fling at him, he hated that she could think he had such low regard for all she'd done for him. He _had _believed what she did. Just last night, he believed with his whole heart that he could have a real life – a _normal _life – with Nymphadora.

Would it help her to know about the mission, to know that it made the worst of his fears and self-doubts resurface?

No. He gasped for breath. God no. It was suffocating.

Tonks' eyes, reflecting the moonlight, shone up at him, and he noted the glisten of quiet tears on her cheeks. As Remus knelt, he resisted the impulse to wipe away her tears with his fingers and drew a threadbare handkerchief from his pocket instead. Tonks accepted it, but did not use it.

"My issues do not go away," said Remus. "I thought they could, but they cannot. I'm grateful to you for trying. It's…I shall never have anything like it again."

"You've got it, Remus. You've always got me."

She reached for him, but he rose and stepped back from her. "Do not settle for me simply because you have invested time and energy. I cannot give back what you've given. Someone else can. Any wizard would love you and want to marry you."

"Where are you getting this?" Tonks asked, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

"Getting what?"

She drew her knees up and rested her chin on them. "This nutty idea that I'm in love with the idea of being married? I want to marry _you_, but that doesn't mean I'm going to go looking for a husband if you won't marry me."

"I won't."

Tonks' jaw tensed. "That's it, then? You're giving up? Without pretence of a fight?"

"What do you propose I do, Tonks? Watch you lose your family and your career for me, only to have you realise several years and a few children down the road that I was a giant mistake?"

A cloud – no, a fog had rolled in without his having noticed it – blocked out the moonlight, and Remus could no longer see Tonks' face. He barely made out her profile against the dark ground. Her head had fallen forward, and her hands seemed to be clutching the roots of her hair.

"I don't know what to say to that." Her voice cracked. "How…" She sniffled. "How can you think I'd regret you?"

"How can you eliminate the possibility?"

"Because I love you!" Tonks staggered to her feet. "I don't care how hard it might be – I'd do whatever it took to make it work. And I know you would too. Or I thought you would."

"I love you so much," said Remus stiffly, "that I'd give you up so you can have what you deserve."

She looked as though he'd slapped her, then her temper flared. "So I _deserve _to be left when I most need you?"

Though stung, Remus forced himself to stay calm. He deserved to sting, after all, even if he was doing his best to be gentle with her. "You deserve a man you won't have to fight the law to marry, or your parents—"

"Or his own stubborn git self?"

Remus felt his own temper reach its breaking point, the tension between them snapped. There it was, laid bare before them. This wasn't about outside forces, as much as outside forces _would _affect their relationship if it were to continue. But for right now, this was _his_ decision. His choice. Tonks knew it.

"Especially his own stubborn git self," said Remus quietly.

The corners of Tonks' mouth twitched – to smile? To cry? Remus could have done either.

With a small laugh – or a sob, Remus couldn't tell – Tonks whispered, "You're worth fighting for, Remus. I don't want anyone who's _not_."

"You're wrong," Remus said, starting back toward the house. "Or you will be."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Tonks called after him – but did not. "What happened to the Marauder who let his friends learn Animagery for him?"

Remus stopped in his tracks. Tonks had appealed to the Marauder before and got her way. He'd given in to her request for a date because she'd asked where his famous Marauder spirit was. If only he'd had a little self-control then, they would not be in this mess now. Why was he always so reckless? Why did he always value the way others saw him above others themselves?

But no more.

"He met a woman," Remus said levelly, not facing her, "and he loved her so much that he realised it was time to stop being selfish and grow up."

"Sirius was right," said Tonks. "You _are _afraid of commitment."

Remus stood stunned. He was _not_ afraid of commitment. Not at all. His acceptance of the assignment, his determination to see it through, for the good of the Order and the Wizarding world, proved that.

But still he did not turn.

Still he could not tell her.

Tonks Disapparated.

As the crack reverberated in the night air, Remus stared into the space from which she'd just vanished. He pictured her stumbling into her flat, blinded by tears. God, not for him…She deserved so much better than him.

She deserved to know the truth.

He poised to Apparate after her, but as he mustered the energies to do it, he found himself bone tired. He did not have the energy to talk about it tonight, much less to fight Tonks again.

Fight. They'd fought. Not merely disagreed, but really _fought_. And hurt one another.

And parted without apology or farewell.

As everything threatened to close in around him, Remus shambled back to the Burrow. It was too much to face the mission and face losing Tonks. Too much for him. More importantly, too much for her. She had to work in the morning. The last thing she needed was for him to add to her troubles. She would find out tomorrow, at the meeting. Dumbledore would make a more convincing case than he. Tonks would understand.

She had to.

Inside, Remus' eyes locked on the untouched bottle of Wolfsbane Potion that still stood on the table. He vanished it.

Separation was the only sure way to keep Tonks safe.


	3. Part Three

**Part Three**

"I s'pose you haven't a lot to pack for this assignment."

Remus' quill went awry on his parchment, so surprised he was to hear Tonks _joke_. Having seen the blindsided look on her face upon Dumbledore's announcement, Remus had braced himself for a confrontation more along the lines of, _Why didn't you tell me about your bloody mission, you great bastard? _Perhaps accompanied by a dismemberment hex or less magical but no less effective and deserved slap across the face – both of which he was equally astonished none of the Order had administered.

Not that the atmosphere wasn't tense. The air seemed to weigh so heavily that Remus had difficulty looking up from the list of his duties he was re-delegating for his absence.

Tonks stood at the opposite end of the Weasleys' kitchen table, flexing and un-flexing her fingers. And of course it was very like her to make a joke at a moment like this, when she didn't know what to say.

She should not be the one to _have _to think of what to say.

As his gaze met hers, Tonks' face went the hue of her raspberry hair, and she muttered self-directed curses as her eyes bent. "Sorry. It's nothing to be glib about."

"Leave it to you to find a bright spot."

Remus produced a weak smile, which Tonks returned. It sent a jolt through him.

"I am the one who should be apologising." He would rather she rail at him. He deserved it, for treating her abominably, for lying to her by omission. She should not be so forgiving simply because she felt sorry for him on account of his less-than-choice mission. "You should not have heard that way. I should have told you before the meeting."

"Yeah." Tonks nodded. "You should've done."

"I'm sorry."

Tonks blundered around the table, tripping over chair legs as she took the corner seat, next to Remus' at the head. Their knees touched.

"I've never doubted Dumbledore in my life," she blurted, as if her natural clumsiness – the awkward joke, her nonexistent equilibrium – had broken the tension and restored them to equal footing.

"Don't start now."

"I can't help it, Remus. This seems completely mad. Are you at all optimistic?"

Optimism had never entered into Remus' decision to accept the mission. He'd agreed to it immediately, because Dumbledore thought it needed to be done. If he couldn't trust Dumbledore's judgment….

Hoarsely, Remus said, "Aren't you always saying the Ministry needs to reach out to werewolves, rather than alienate them?"

"That's not what I asked," said Tonks in true, focused Auror form. "D'you think you'll be able to persuade them not to go over to Voldemort's side?"

Determined not to let her worry over this, and buoyed by how _normal _this conversation seemed to be, Remus quirked an eyebrow and nudged Tonks with his knee. "What, Tonks, you don't think my brand of reasoned argument will make much headway with werewolves?"

Tonks mirrored his facial expression. "Not if it's the same brand you used on me last night."

Her voice held just enough of an edge that Remus knew this sense of normalcy would not last much longer.

Drawing his leg back from hers, immediately missing the light contact but trying not to think about it, Remus admitted, "It's more spy work than recruiting. Of course it will take some time for me to acclimate to life among the other lycanthropes—"

"I hate the thought of you being there," Tonks said miserably, shoulders sloping downward as she slumped in her chair. "They live…like…"

Did she even know what they lived like?

"Not like people," she concluded.

Remus' gaze dropped to the parchment. He could not bear to see the line between concern and pity blur in Tonks' eyes if she realised what "not like people" entailed.

He must blend in with people who made no effort to fit in with civilised society because they were used to not being allowed even what he'd had. He would not only lack paid employment, but would have nothing useful to fill his waking hours. He would sleep outdoors, where there were no proper facilities, and his worn clothes would become even more hopeless, and certainly would not stay clean. He would scrounge meals from bins and be weak and ill – _at best_.

There would be no Wolfsbane Potion. He'd transformed for years without it, but never among others…others of his kind.

He would be less human than he'd ever been.

"You're the most civilised person I know," said Tonks. "You're a professor. You belong in a study with of mahogany furniture and bookshelves so full you couldn't squeeze in a pamphlet."

"Not anymore," said Remus in clipped syllables, trying not to let his thoughts wander to his old office at Hogwarts, or some imaginary house shared with Tonks. "I'll have to fit in there."

"It's _pretend _fitting in," Tonks corrected.

"No," said Remus with a puff of mirthless laughter as he looked up again. "I am afraid it is very real."

"Think of it as morphing," Tonks said. "You get to go back to your real face once the job's done, and…" Her foot touched his ankle, then brushed up his shin as her voice dropped to an intimate pitch. "I'll be home waiting to kiss you."

"Like I did for you." That one day he'd stayed at her flat while she worked, and he believed he could live in domestic bliss with her. God, he'd been a fool.

"Yep. Role reversal." Tonks swung her legs under the table and added as an afterthought, "Only I'm the one with pink hair."

"I should certainly hope so. Pink hair would be a dead giveaway that I am a spy."

Tonks wilted. "Can't you spy from a distance, with an Invisibility Cloak?"

Remus wanted to prolong her light mood, though it required a good deal of effort to reproduce it. "That would be my preferred method," he said, "but somehow I cannot envision a pack of werewolves perched on boulders chatting pleasantly over Wolfsbane Potion about their political leanings."

Tonks laughed, but it did not fill her eyes. "I just don't like the thought of you _living _there."

It was time to address an earlier comment he'd let slip by. "And I don't like the thought of you waiting for me. I cannot ask that of you."

Her eyes darkened. "You don't have to ask."

"Tonks—"

"I wouldn't mind if you _did_," she interrupted softly, dropping her gaze to her fidgety hands clasped on the table. "To be perfectly honest, I'm offended that you didn't talk the mission over with me." Voice dropping to just above a whisper, Tonks asked, eyes darting up to him again, "Why didn't you?"

"There was nothing to discuss. I had already made up my mind."

Tonks' face registered no surprise. In fact, the way she closed her eyes indicated the acceptance of something expected. "You make me feel like I'm not…" She cast about for the proper description. "…not _enough_ for you."

Remus' throat constricted. He'd made her feel inadequate.

Eyes downcast, fingers picking at a chipped edge of the table, Tonks added, "Maybe I'm _not_ enough. Maybe that's why you're doing this. But I wish you'd tell me."

Suddenly Remus could not sit any longer, not beside her. He pushed back his chair and, gripping the arm rests tightly, forced his joints, stiff from the waxing moon, to straighten. They loosened as he paced away from the table, though he felt no less constricted by proximity to Tonks and his barrage of self-recriminating thoughts.

Merlin, how had he made such a mess of things? How could he be such a beast? Tonks should not _have_ to support him; it wasn't that he didn't think she _could_. He stopped in front of the spice cupboard and leaned heavily against the door.

Or didn't he? That fear he'd unthinkingly voiced last night, that one day Tonks would see him as a mistake…

"It was too much," Remus blurted.

After a brief pause, Tonks said, "Too much for me to handle."

It was not a question, and her even tone made Remus turn back to her.

Tonks folded her arms across her chest as her gaze levelled on him. "Thanks for not giving me the old, _It's not you, it's me_."

"It's _not_ you," said Remus. "Even if you hadn't other responsibilities – other very important responsibilities, Tonks – it would be too much to ask of you." In a lame attempt at not making her feel disrespected, he added "Of anybody."

Though Tonks' posture did not change, somehow the authoritative stance became a protective one. After a moment's intent scrutiny, Remus realised it was because her gaze had shifted inward.

He hated himself for calling her _anybody_. _Nobody_ could do for him what Nymphadora Tonks had done.

She was remarkable.

For a long time, the only sound in the room came from the Weasleys' clock, the hands of which all seemed permanently fixed at "Mortal Peril." Each tick seemed slower than the one before, as though the mood that weighed increasingly heavier upon Remus and Tonks was altering the clock mechanism.

Finally, Tonks asked, "Is this because of Sirius?"

"Sirius?"

"You said we moved too fast because we're grieving. Did you mean you realised I couldn't help you?"

A creaking sound, as of the stairs, pricked Remus' ears. "Of course you have helped me."

"I haven't." Tonks shook her head as she stood. "You've talked to _me_ about Sirius, but you've not said a word about how _you _feel, except that it's not as hard as when you thought he was a traitor and a murderer."

"It isn't as hard."

"But you're still hurting! You still lost your best mate!" Tonks' chest heaved as she continued, "I don't know what to say, what to do. Is that why you won't let me help you with this?"

"Don't think that," said Remus urgently, taking the steps between them laying his hands on her shoulders. "Do not ever think that. You had nothing to do with—"

Another creak. Remus' hands fell to his sides as they whipped to see Hermione round the bend in the staircase.

She froze when she saw them, eyes round, whether with guilt or surprise, Remus could not tell. His heart accelerated. What had she heard?

"I'm sorry," said Hermione, turning to scurry back upstairs, "I'll come back later."

When her footfalls receded, Remus faced Tonks again. His hands moved as though to resume their place on her shoulders, but he checked the impulse.

"This has nothing to do with what you did or didn't do regarding Sirius," he said. "You've had your own burdens. I never expected you to carry mine."

"But you _should_ expect that, Remus!" Tonks cried. "That's how relationships work!"

Remus winced at her volume. "Hermione, the Weasleys – they'll hear."

Tonks gave him a withering look that told him she didn't care who heard. But she exhaled deeply and lowered her voice.

"Look, Remus," she said, raking her hands through her hair as she swept around him, "I'm not saying we should run off and get married, but—"

"Tonks—"

"Hear me out!" Tonks' eyes blazed as she wheeled back. More quietly, but with no less vehemence, she said, "I believe what I said last night – we need a future to look forward to if we're going to get through this. Both of us."

Remus gritted his teeth. How many times were they going to go through this, or some variation thereof? "I cannot have ties here."

Her brows knit. "But you won't be completely cut off. You'll report."

"When I can."

"Right." She nodded, once. "Then we'll be together when you can. You need me."

"What I need is for you to be safe."

Tonks snorted. "We're in a bleeding _war_. I think they take _safe_ out of the dictionary in wartime."

"All the more reason not to place yourself in the way of unnecessary danger."

"I've got one of the most dangerous jobs in the Wizarding world." Tonks' hands balled into fists at her sides. "I'm a member of the Order. I volunteered for both. D'you want me to drop them so I can be safe?"

Remus swallowed hard as he struggled to quell mounting irritation. He respected Tonks' career and the work she did in the Order. He would never ask her to give up either. She had worked hard to earn both positions, and he accepted them as part of her. Didn't she know that?

In a measured tone he asked, "Are you saying I'm chauvinistic?"

Her chin jutted slightly, her tension almost an affirmation of his question.

"I'm saying you're a man in love," came her contrastingly mild reply, "and you've got a strong protective streak and a bit of a nobility complex."

One hand opened and rested on the table, fidgeting with the crocheted table runner; the fingers of her other worked restlessly through her spiky hair, tugging at the ends to make the violent pink tufts stand out more. "I want to be the one who brings your Wolfsbane potion."

"You can't—"

"Bollocks! I'm the most qualified in the Order. Ready-made disguise."

Even as Tonks spoke, her heart-shaped face narrowed. The hollows of her cheeks deepened, and sallow, scarred skin stretched taut across protruding cheekbones. Her pink hair lengthened and drooped in her face, over her shoulders, in matted brown locks.

"Stop!" Remus exclaimed. "Put your face back!"

Tonks' eyes remained dark and wide as her features returned to their true state. Remus' stomach knotted. His outburst had frightened her.

"I'm sorry," he sputtered, "I don't ever want to see you like that…" That Tonks would consider going anywhere near the camp, even undercover, made him ill. He hoped he wouldn't have nightmares of her looking…like one of _them_. "And I can't take the potion while I am living underground."

"What?" She fumbled for a chair and dropped heavily onto it. "You can't mean to transform without—"

"They'd know. My cover would be destroyed. Greyback could take revenge on…" He swallowed painfully, unable to finish the sentence.

"Remus…In that case you'll need me more than ever."

"I cannot have ties," he repeated. "Please, understand, I will not have you in danger on my account."

"But that's _love_." She reached for him.

"Don't." Remus skirted her hand. "Don't make this more difficult for me than it is." He gathered his writing implements, stuffed them into his pockets, and picked up the parchment. "This is what I am. This is why I told you I am too dangerous."

"No!" Tonks choked, knocking over her chair over as she stood. "It's not what you are."

"If I let you give up your life for me," Remus rasped, holding out his hand holding the parchment to keep her at a distance, "then I've done no better than if I'd bit you."

"Bit me! Remus—"

"Letting you go," he spoke deliberately over her, "is the one human thing I can do."

Tonks opened her mouth to protest, but Remus said emphatically, "Please – please don't take that from me. If I can have that…" He drew in a ragged breath. "…then maybe I can face everything else."

Mercifully, Tonks said nothing – although it was hardly comforting for Remus to see her chin quivering so that it was more likely she could not speak, rather than had nothing to say. The brightness of her eyes certainly indicated a desire to talk, as well as a surge of tears she would not be able to fight much longer.

As he let his gaze drift over her, as though to commit more permanently to memory every inch of the woman he knew by heart, Remus realised that Tonks' hair, while no longer unkempt or tangled and dirty looking, remained her natural mousy brown. For some reason that wrenched him more than anything.

Remus moved toward her, wincing at the hope that briefly lit her eyes. Avoiding contact with her, he righted the chair, then turned away before he could see her tears fall.

"Goodbye, Nymphadora."

As he mounted the stairs, the acrid tastes of loss and guilt burned his throat and mouth. What had he done? He was a fool to give her up, a bastard to break her heart. It was so nauseating that he faltered in his steps and very nearly turned around and asked Tonks if he could take it all back, if they could simply pretend this whole business about breaking up had never occurred.

But he continued upstairs, forcing the same resolve into his limbs as he did into his throat and stomach each month when he chocked down the vile Wolfsbane Potion. The foul taste was worth it to curb the worst effects of transforming into the werewolf, wasn't it?

Perhaps the more bitter the medicine, the better the remedy.

So long as Nymphadora was safe, he would drink it.

_The End_


End file.
